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Some Pun on tha Word 'Bran'
"Some Pun on tha Word 'Bran'" is tha fourth episode of tha straight-up original gangsta season of Da Bunkest. Synopsis Jasmine discovers a promotionizzle event from BranCorp dat states dat if one of mah thugs manages ta smoke enough bran, bran will start ta taste good. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Yo ass know what tha fuck dis means muthafucka! Another wack n' unnecessary bran adventure! Transcript (Pan up in on Bunkest, then zoom tha fuck into Jasmine, whoz ass is lookin round fo' suttin' ta eat.) Jasmine: (Looks up in pantry, only ta notice itz empty.) Hmmph. (Looks up in fridge yo, but itz also empty.) Hmmmph. (Looks round kitchen yo, but itz also also empty.) Hmmmmph. (Pulls head up doorway n' tha fuck into livin room.) Yo, everybody, our phat asses aint gots any chicken left. Pixel: (in a cold-ass lil chair playin OK K.O.! Letz Play Heroes on tha Xbox One) Yeah, we know. Jasmine: I'ma go grocery hustlin, you want anything? Timebomb: Pixel: Strawberry milk, shrimp n' oysters. Madi: Reese's, Skittles, Spree, Gobstoppers, Jolly Ranchers. Moon Snail: Maybe some Ramen Noodles! Flametail: Yo ass have, like, a thousand of it already, Moon. Moon Snail: Don't care. Mo' noodles! Jasmine: Alright, soundz phat hommie! See y'all up in a gangbangin' few! (Jasmine strutts up door n' down tha street of Bunker Desert City, USA, on her way ta tha grocery story, when suddenly a TV turns on up in tha rap behind her n' shit. Well shiiiit, it shows a kid lookin bugged out over a funky-ass bowl of cereal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. Jasmine looks behind her, n' all up in tha TV.) BranCorp Announcer: Yo, kid hommie! (Kid looks up at camera.) Do you like tha taste of bran? Kid: (Excited tone, smiling) Fuck dat shit, not up in tha slightest! BranCorp Announcer: Neither do we biaaatch! But dat can chizzle! Kid: (Amazed) *gasp* How? BranCorp Announcer: It aint nuthin but simple, straight-up dawwwwg! (Cut ta image of scale holdin nuff muthafuckin boxez of a indeterminizzle Bran) If you loot at least thirty-seven metric tonz of Bran, (37 METRIC TONS flashes on screen) Bran will no longer taste like cardboard hommie! (Cut back ta kid) Kid: Wow! (Cut ta BranCorp announcer) BranCorp Announcer: Thatz right son! And as a funky-ass bonus, whoever finishes 37 metric tons first will git a gangbangin' free t-shirt, n' a gangbangin' free box of New Bran! So ORDER NOW! (ORDER NOW flashes on screen, n' it cuts back ta show Jasmine on tha street) Jasmine: Bran tokin good, biatch? Thirty-seven metric tons?! Thatz a phat deal! BranCorp Announcer: (Reachin outta TV) I know! (gets up card n' pen) Just sign here, n' I be bout ta git you started right away! Jasmine: I'd be dumb not to! (Jasmine signs card) BranCorp Announcer: Alrighty dawwwwg! (reaches tha fuck into TV n' pulls up thirty-seven metric tonz of bran) Here you go! (handz dem ta Jasmine, whoz ass nearly collapses from tha weight. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch starts struttin back home.) (Wipe ta tha Bunkest, n' cut inside, where Jasmine is carryin nuff muthafuckin boxez of bran. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Da rest of tha cast is just chillaxing.) Jasmine: Guess whoz ass just had a unexpected chizzle of plans! Moch: Jasmine, what tha fuck is you carrying? Jasmine: Thirty-seven metric tonz of bran. Everyone: (collectively) THIRTY-SEVEN METRIC TONS?! Timebomb: Come on! Yo ass holla'd we'd be havin beginnin of LazyHood vizzle here Madi: No candy, biatch? Seriously? Jasmine: Yeah, I know! But some dude holla'd at be dat if we ate thirty-seven metric tonz of bran, it wouldn't taste like cardboard any mo' biaaatch! And I be here ta help tha ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! So dig in, dem hoes dawwwwg! (Slices open bran, causin it ta flood tha room, wit only tha headz of others peekin outta tha bran.) ACF: Er...Okay I guess, biatch? (throws all dem up in they grill, cringes as they swallow it down) Do our crazy asses have any gin n juice ta make dis taste better? Jasmine: Nope biaaatch! Just plain ol' bran! ACF: Dammit. Jasmine: But quit freakin' tha fuck out, I be shizzle dat it'll taste much betta once we finish! Imagine... (Imagines ghetto of gin n juice n' dem scooby snacks n' other dirty treats, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch puts her spoon up in a funky-ass bowl of New! Bran, only ta cut back ta her smokin it up in real game. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch cringes fo' a moment, then swallows. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch starts ta speak, albeit a lil weakly.) Yo ass see, biatch? For tha betta of tha ghetto. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Moon Snail: Jas, I know dat there be a a phat reason ta smoke Bran yo, but I aint lettin a grain of dat filth bust a nut on mah grill. Jasmine: (Pushin spoon near Moon Snailz face.) Come on. Moon Snail: No. Jasmine: (Continuing) Try dat shiznit son! Moon Snail: Please no. Jasmine: Here comes tha airplane! Moon Snail: (Continues ta hesitate.) Jasmine: Look up son! Da airplanez crashin tha fuck into a orphanage biaaatch! Quit it wit yo' grill! Moon Snail: (Do nothing) Jasmine: (Makes airplane noises as dat thugged-out biiiatch crashes her spoon tha fuck into tha bran pile.) Yo ass see, biatch? Thatz what tha fuck happens when you selfish fo' realz. A bunch of orphans take a thugged-out dirt nap. Pixel: Yeah, don't you care bout orphans, Moon Snail? Moon Snail: *Sigh* Flametail: Just take some biaaatch! *Stuffs tha spoon tha fuck into Moon Snailz grill violently* Moon Snail: *Chokes, then swallows tha bran* That was da most thugged-out shitty thang I eva smoked. Flametail: Great son! Therez mo' where dat came from! *Continues ta feed Moon Snail Bran* Moon Snail: *Muffled, tears fillin his wild lil' fuckin eyes* Please, stop! Jasmine: Guys, muthafuckas, don't fight son! Us thugs won't finish these thirty-seven metric tonz of Bran without peace n' harmony! Moon Snail: Did yo dirty ass say thirty-seven metric tons? Jasmine: Well, at dis point it might be thirty-six point nine nine yo, but approximately, yeah. Moon Snail: Thirty-seven metric tons. Jasmine: Thatz what tha fuck I holla'd! Moon Snail: Thirty-seven. Jasmine: Now Moon Snail, no need ta be a gangbangin' fucked up record. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Now finish yo' bran. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. (Jasmine continues ta smoke tha bran yo, but don't trip off it much. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch is still motivated by dat free T-shirt, though.) Moon Snail: Nope biaaatch! I be done biaaatch! One spoon was too much fo' me biaaatch! But I refuse ta chug down dat much of dat shiznit son! Goodb- Timebomb: (Pushes down on Moon Snailz hands, lockin his ass up in place) Nope! Moon Snail: Let me go! Timebomb: fak u selfish zangoose. Flametail: Now now, nahmeean?.. *Continues feedin Moon Snail Bran* Moon Snail: This has ta be a gangbangin' form of torture! (Madi has finished off a shitload of tha bran) Madi: '''Can we please stop? '''Jasmine: Never stop smokin, Madi! Tornadospeed: Yo, Jasmine? Jasmine: *with a grillful of bran* Whatz good? Tornadospeed: When you say thirty-seven metric tons, how tha fuck nuff boxes is that? Jasmine: *swallows bran* Uh... thatz not blingin. Just smoke yo' bran. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. *continues smokin bran* Tornadospeed: Right. I don't remember what tha fuck bran tastes like yo, but surely it aint so bad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! *Shovels a massive spoonful tha fuck into his crazy-ass grill, spit-takes immediately after* Yikes muthafucka! And we gotta smoke all of it? Jasmine: Yep! Tornadospeed: *eyes start ta tear up* (Some time has passed yo, but there is still tonz of Bran floodin tha Bunkest. Everyone is sick of smokin dis yo, but won't admit it) Moon Snail: I feel like I be bout ta puke at any moment... Jasmine: Would you rather do dis or peep every last muthafuckin Adventure Time episode back ta back? Moon Snail: *Scoffs* Jasmine: Because I be bout ta make you do both if you keep dat attitude. Moon Snail: *Groans, smokes another spoonful of Bran, wincin as da perved-out muthafucka swallows* ACF: Y'all if I smoke one mo' spoonful of dis shiznit I be goin ta take a thugged-out dirt nap. Madi: I feel like I be goin ta explode! Jasmine: But muthafuckas, our crazy asses have bout (counts ta self) thirty-five point seven tons left son! We can't give up now, nahmeean? ACF: But Jaaaaaassss. Jasmine: No buts muthafucka! Eat yo' Bran, *now*. (Jasmine is gettin freaky) ACF: Y-Yeah sure. (Shoves spoonful of Bran up in grill yo, but evidently straight-up don't like dat shit.) Yo ass know, I be thinkin I be goin ta go to... Place now, nahmeean? Moon Snail: Yeah, me like a muthafucka. Moch: Same here. (everyone strutts away, leavin Jasmine alone) Jasmine: Okay yo, but y'all is missin up son! Therez mo' fo' me biaaatch! (Pauses fo' a moment, then looks at Bran, bustin lyrics ta dat shit.) I don't like you straight-up much. (cuts away ta any suckas hidin up in Place) ACF: Yo ass know, I wanna bust a nut on hangin round Jas n' all yo, but I be thinkin she a lil Moon Snail: All Out insane? ACF: I was goin ta say "wrong-minded," but dat works like a muthafucka. Bob: Well, dat thugged-out biiiatch clearly motivated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. What is we supposed ta do? ACF: I dunno, hold a hunger strike? (Everyone looks at one another, n' shrugs.) Moch: I don't peep why not. Tornadospeed: That shouldn't be too hard. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Afta smokin so much bran *shudders*, I won't be horny fo' weeks. Pixel: Bran is straight-up tha third most shitty-tastin thang on tha hood. I highly doubt smokin 37 metric tonz of tha shiznit will chizzle its taste. Bob: What is tha other two? Pixel: Banana yogurt n' chicken pizzy. Tornadospeed: Banana yogurt, biatch? Heck, it'd be way easier ta smoke thirty-seven metric tonz of banana yogurt than dat same amount of bran. Pixel: Ehhh... (Everyone strutts outside, arms crossed.) Jasmine: Oh, hello! (Gets up spoonful of Bran) Is you locked n loaded fo' more? Moon Snail: (smacks spoon outta hand) Jasmine: Da orphans! Moon Snail: We pissed wit yo' wack game biaaatch! We goin on strike! Jasmine: Finally dawwwwg! It aint nuthin but bout time we make dem capitalist pigs pay! Pixel: I be thinkin he means a hunger strike. Jasmine: (Bewildered) Wh-, biatch? How tha fuck could yo slick ass? ACF: It tastes shitty. Tornadospeed: Straight-Up shitty. Madi: Yeah, if we continue smokin this, we'll explode! Jasmine: Now fellas, I KNOW yo' frustration, n' it make complete n' total sense yo, but think, there be lil pimps up there, starving! And think, someday, when we loot thirty-seven mo' metric tonz of bran fo' tha children, do we straight-up want it ta taste like cardboard? (Everyone else seems unconvinced.) Jasmine: We've finished two n' a half metric tons by now, n' dat shiznit was (suddenly struggles, unable ta say it "wasn't dat bad)... Dat shiznit was n- (strugglez again) ...Da point is, dis be a cold-ass lil collaboratizzle effort! Pixel: And so is our strike. (Jasmine looks back all up in tha strikers fo' a moment, expectin ta come up wit a cold-ass lil smart-ass rebuttal yo, but she aint able to.) Jasmine: Well, fine biaaatch! Go trip off yo' "hunger strike," but soon we'll be all outta Bran, n' yo big-ass booty is ghon still be hungry, then what tha fuck do you eat? Timebomb: repeatin LazyHood vizzle but is quickly cut off Madi: Candy, candy, candy... Jasmine: Yeah, yeah, I know. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Soon you gonna see, you gonna all see. (continues ta smoke Bran, lookin back all dem times, expectin one of mah thugs ta be hungry. No one is.) (Some time later...) Moon Snail: (Stomach growls) Heh. I gots a shitload of noodlez I can cook! (Goes ta his Grotto) Now... (Opens cabinet n' sees not a god damn thang but a piece of paper) WAAAGH! WHERE'S THE FOOD WHERE'S THE FOOD WHERE'S THE FOOD!? (Readz note. Well shiiiit, it say "Sick try. ~Jasmine") Dat hoe stubborn... Well, I could git all up in Krusty Burger ta grab some- (Krusty Burger has a sign dat say "Closed until tha Bran is eaten.") DAMN IT. Jasmine: Yo ass is straight-up shitty at dis "Hunger strike" thang, now aren't yo slick ass? Moon Snail: Fuck dat shit, I be just... Jasmine: (shushes Moon Snail) No need ta be upset fo' realz. All you gotta do is join mah dirty ass. (Moon Snail runs ta Timebombz room) Timebomb: Yo Moon Snail, how tha fuck bout our laid-back asses just violently cappin' Jasmine? Moon Snail: ...Why? Timebomb: (Points up door, showin Jasmine tryin ta convince tha rest of tha Bunkmates ta join her muthafuckin ass.) Jasmine: I understand, it may be "torturous," but up in our torture, we find peace. (Back inside Timebombz room) Moon Snail: ...Alright, I be in. Jasmine: Only 3 boxes left before we beat tha record! Moon Snail: (Creeps behind Jasmine wit knife.) Jasmine: (Turns round ta peep Moon Snail.) Moon Snail! Is you locked n loaded fo' *gasps* is dat a knife you holding? Moon Snail: Well, you see... Jasmine: (Smacks knife outta Moon Snailz hand.) Moon Snail: Da orphans! Jasmine: Yo ass is bein silly, Moon Snail. Yo ass know you can only smoke bran wit a spoon! (Handz Moon Snail spoon.) Don't worry, we breakin tha record soon, anyway. Moon Snail: (whisperin ta bunkmates) Sorry, muthafuckas. (Tries ta finish bran wit Jasmine.) Yo ass know, all up in tha end of tha day, I feel there be a peace up in knowin dat we bout ta beat tha record. Jasmine: I know, right, biatch? That nine metric ton ghetto record was tough yo, but not impossible biaaatch! But we still have twenty-eight mo' ta git all up in if we want bran ta taste good! Moon Snail: ...Dogg damn dat shit. (Cut ta all tha strikers, lazin round lookin miserable n' hungry) Tornadospeed: How tha fuck long has it been since we ate? Flametail: 5 hours, I think... Tornadospeed: All of dis fo' a T-shirt... Jasmine: (interjecting) And New Bran! Tornadospeed: And New Bran. Timebomb: Say, how tha fuck bout we finish tha rest of tha boxes n' then cappin' Jasmine? Moon Snail: Honestly, cappin' her seems a lil' bit overboard, despite how tha fuck wack dis is. Maybe knock her up wit a funky-ass basebizzle bat? Tornadospeed: (standz up, n' strutts towardz Bran) ACF: Tornadospeed, where is you going? Tornadospeed: I be sorry as a muthafucka but... I be starving. ACF: *gasps* Tornadospeed, no! Jasmine: (gets up box) Is you locked n loaded fo' more? ACF: No!!! Tornadospeed: (already crying) I have to... Moon Snail: Dude made a honorable sacrifice. I salute his muthafuckin ass. Timebomb: Moon Snail, knock up Jasmine! Moon Snail: Okay then. Jasmine: (watchin Timebomb n' Madi finish tha rest of tha boxes) Yes muthafucka! Eat dat shiznit son! (Moon Snail creeps up from behind Jasmine wit a funky-ass basebizzle bat n' knocks her out) Moon Snail: Phew. Maybe she'll forget all of this. Flametail: We still have bout 12 tons ta bounce tha fuck out. Moon Snail: It never ends, do it? Tornadospeed: I gots a idea! (rushes over ta tha incinerator n' opens it) Letz burn dat shiznit son! Moon Snail: Bran is flammable? Tornadospeed: Maybe. Flametail: We somehow managed ta git rid of tha 12 tons left! Jasmine: (Wakes up) Yo ass did what?! ACF: Yeah, letz go wit that! (Suddenly, TV turns on, showin tha BranCorp Announcer) BranCorp Announcer: Do I hear our crazy asses gotz a funky-ass balla? (Everyone looks at each other fo' a moment.) Jasmine: I mean, I guess. BranCorp Announcer: Congratulations muthafucka! Take dis free T-shirt son! (puts T-shirt dat readz "I be Bran-Tastic" on Jasmine) And dis box of New Bran! (handz Jasmine box of New Bran) Now smile biaaatch! (Takes picture of Jasmine, captioned "Number One Bran Fan") ACF: I can't believe our phat asses did dat shiznit son! Tornadospeed: Yeah, we straight-up did! Moon Snail: Well, I suppose itz time you claim yo' prize? Jasmine: (Lookin at box of New Bran) Hmmm... oh, aiiight. (cut ta Jasminez room, as she pours a funky-ass bowl of New Bran) Jasmine: Time ta bust mah taste budz on a journey! (Everyone behind her watches wit anticipation as her big-ass booty sticks tha spoonful of bran up in her grill. But fuck dat shiznit yo, tha word on tha street is dat her expression of joy chizzlez ta one of disgust relatively doggystyle.) Jasmine: Yo, whatz tha big-ass deal, biatch? I thought you holla'd it would taste good? BranCorp Announcer: Oh, heavens no. I just holla'd it wouldn't taste like cardboard no mo'! I hope you trip off tha freshly smoked up burnt rubber taste! Jasmine: Well I be bout ta! BranCorp Announcer: (Runs tha fuck into TV n' turns it off.) Jasmine: No!!! (All Y'all is smokin at McDonaldz (except fo' Madi, whoz ass is smokin candy, up in celebration) Timebomb: Real chicken hommie! At last! ACF: Well as real as it'll git at a McDonald's. Timebomb: It aint nuthin but betta than what tha fuck we endured. ACF: I know, I know. Moon Snail: (Bites tha fuck into McChicken) Well, tha endz didn't justify tha means yo, but at least our phat asses don't gotta suffer all up in dis eva again! Jasmine: Yep. Tornadospeed: Yeah yo, but you know what, biatch? I wish I was smokin (that LazyHood vizzle starts again) Everyone: Alright, we git dat shiznit son! Jasmine: Da point is... I be sorry as a muthafucka fo' all I done did. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I may have smoked nuff muthafuckin metric tonz of bran yo, but I can't help but feel empty inside... Tornadospeed: Because you hurt yo' playaz n' tha New Bran smoked shitty? Jasmine: Somethang like dat n' like dis n' like dat y'all. ACF: Yo now, at least you realized yo' mistake. It aint nuthin but not like we'll eva gotta do dis again. BranCorp Announcer: (Suddenly appears on TV up in background) Tired of tha New Bran, biatch? Want tha Oldskool Bran back, biatch? Well, have we gots a cold-ass lil contest fo' yo slick ass? Jasmine: (Looks at playas) Well, I mean cardboard is betta than rubber! BranCorp Announcer: Exactly dawwwwg! And hit up dis def ha- ACF: *smashes TV wit mallet* Da point is, never enta a cold-ass lil contest like dat again. Madi: Or yo' stomach might explode! (everyone laughs as tha camera zooms up n' tha screen fades ta black) (Cut ta tha Bunkest version of "It aint nuthin but gonna be fine") Category:Da Bunkest